I WAS SLOBBO'S PAWN

Justin Marozzi resists attempts to

co-opt him into fighting the Serbs' propaganda war

Belgrade SLOBODAN Milosevic needs Sir Tim Bell. Or Maurice Saatchi. Or Peter Man- delson. Or anyone else who can give the Butcher of Belgrade a decent bit of spin.

That much is obvious after a week in the Yugoslav capital. One year after the Nato bombing campaign the federation of Yugoslav journalists has invited 50 or so fellow hacks from 35 countries around the world for its 35th international meeting in Belgrade. By a roundabout way the invita- tion finds its way to me. Those of us unversed in the quagmire of Balkan poli- tics and Serbian propaganda hardly know what to expect.

It doesn't take too long to figure out. As we take our seats in the hotel auditorium to listen to some introductory remarks from our host, a battery of television cameras descends upon us. For the next week they barely leave our side. In due course we dis- cover our motley group has become a regu- lar feature on local television stations. `Foreign journalists condemn Nato aggres- sion and express sympathy with the brave Serbs' and all that sort of stuff.

First up is Dr Mihailo Milojevic, presi- dent of the Yugoslav chamber of com- merce. His speech is interminable, its subject matter depressing. Here are the results of the Nato bombing: 76 industrial facilities damaged or destroyed; 18 railway bridges; 16 railway lines; 42 road bridges; civilian airports; 10 hotels; vital oil refiner- ies; gas distribution systems; electricity net- works. And so it goes on. Eventually, after calling on the EU and USA to abandon the `shameful practice' of sanctions, Dr Miloje- vic comes to a halt. Up jumps Mohammed, an Iraqi journalist, resplendent in a double- breasted seersucker jacket.

`Iraq has also been targeted by Western aggression,' he declares solemnly. 'We have been bombed and we have had sanc- tions, but we have resisted and we are sure the Yugoslav people will do the same. We support Yugoslavia and we will support the rebuilding of its oil industry and we highly appreciate the steadfastness of the Yugoslav people.' And with that he sits down. No question, no Paxmanesque inter- rogation — just a kick in the balls for the West and a pat on the back for Slobbo.

Next up, the all-new Belgrade Bombing Bus Tour Bonanza. Roll up, get yer tickets from the ministry of information. This way, please, for the pile of rubble formerly known as the Serbian interior ministry, line up for the ruins of the defence min- istry, feast your eyes on the pulverised army headquarters.

On to the skeletal remains of the Serbian radio and television centre where we are thanked for coming to present our condo- lences — Is that what we're doing? It's news to us if we are — to the 16 journalists and technical staff killed during the bombing by `Nato aggressors' on 24 April last year. With one eye on the scrum of local television crews surrounding us, Budo Simonovic, president of the federation of Yugoslav journalists, obligingly lays a wreath in front of what's left of the building.

One year on, and the public display of war wounds to the world — including con- demnation of 'Nato aggression' and con- stant demonising of Kosovar Albanians is the only show in town. Of course, PR and spin-doctoring have grown more sophisticated since the Soviet era, but the Serbian authorities have been too busy ethnically cleansing the Balkans, and being cleansed, to notice.

After lunch, it's time to inspect some more bomb damage. Another broadcasting centre; this time Radio and Television Ser- bia in Novi Sad, where the devastation is on a greater scale. We listen to more denunciations of Nato aggression. Some of the Western journalists are beginning to feel uncomfortable. 'I came here fairly sympathetic to the Serbian cause,' says one. `But all this propaganda is starting to turn me off. This isn't the best way to put across their story.'

Day two, and we drive to Kragujevac, home to Zastava — manufacturers of the Yugo, Serbia's answer to the Skoda. Miroslav Pusonja, the company's president, welcomes us in another auditorium and puts on a video entitled Zastava in the Twi- light of the Twentieth Century. Thunderous classical music accompanies images of mis- siles exploding in the factory; then there are lingering shots of twisted wreckage, burnt-out car hulks suspended in mid-air on conveyor belts, and workers reconstruct- ing the plant after the attack. 'It's a catas- trophe,' mutters Mohammed.

Mr Pusonja holds a press conference before we leave. Mohammed rises to his feet and hails Zastava's efforts to rebuild the plant after the Nato aggression. A Greek Cypriot adds his own congratulations, fol- lowed by a Palestinian who asks whether Nato bombed the plant to make Serbia a market for American goods. An Israeli jour- nalist asks what military products Zastava manufactures. An embarrassed Mr Pusonja refers the question to the ranks of infortna" tion-ministry officials in the front row. A few words are exchanged and then he tells ys that Zastava makes hunting rifles, sporting rifles and pistols. This is being a little col' nomical with the actuante. Later, he tells the journalist he wanted to answer the question properly but was not allowed to. The evening consists of two more excru- ciating speeches and another press confer- ence that drags on well past midnight' Zoran Andjelkovic, president of the inter- im administrative council of Kosovo and Metohija, is joined by Nebojsa Vujovie, deputy foreign minister. They bludgeon us into boredom, ranting on about the gross injustice of the Nato bombing, about the, chaos and lawlessness of Kosovo today, an the daily atrocities committed by the K°s°- var Albanians against the remaining Serbs. Their speeches are full of venom, bitterness and defiance. Several kilograms of books, are handed out. One of them is entitled Days of Terror (in the presence of the inter: national forces). The preface suggests 03, nians are brutal murderers because. `their national character and achieved co/11 isation level'. Nato leaders, meanwhile' `can be compared only to Adolf Hitler'. Punch-drunk with propaganda, • ed by all this bomb-talk, I reel off to bedfeel- in g like Winston Smith in Nineteen Eightye Four. I'm ready to agree with anything of Serbian authorities say. Nato is a bunco murderers. Slobodan Milosevic is the heru__ . oat ic father of peace-loving Serbs. Kosovai, Albanians are drug-smuggling, homic thugs. The corrupt Western press is blitzed by with an expansionist CIA to des bilise Yugoslavia. Anything, anything you like. Just let me go to bed. Day three, and internal strife breaks out. Still recovering from 48 hours of Serbian blitzkrieg, I decide to pass on the sched- uled 7y; hour round table on 'Truth Against Aggression on the Federal Repub- lic of Yugoslavia' and somewhat guiltily watch the French Open in my hotel room instead. Emerging for dinner, I find it has been decided (by whom? The federation? The ministry? Mohammed?) to draft a statement on behalf of the assembled jour- nalists condemning Nato aggression. The statement is horrifying. Not only do we all apparently condemn the Nato bomb- ing campaign, we also denounce the majori- ty of the Western press for its biased and dishonest coverage of the conflict. Worse, the proposed declaration has its supporters, including a senior Mexican journalist who has been knocking back the slivovitz, an Armenian, a Palestinian and, of course, Mohammed. The Iraqi intervenes to request that the statement specifically mention, and condemn, all violence against Iraq. Things are getting out of control. We Western jour- nalists condemn the condemnation in the Strongest terms. The following morning, after a last-ditch attempt to slip through a second, marginally less ridiculous, state- ment, the organisers finally back down. The last event of our stage-managed visit is a press conference with Momir Bulatovic, federal prime minister. He trots out the usual blend of lies, conspiracy theories and regime dogma. Milosevic enjoys massive support, foreign intelligence agencies are behind the rash of political assassinations, the authorities shut down Studio B, the opposition radio and television station, because it was irresponsible. It's all good stuff for Mohammed. He stands up again. 'I would like to seize this opportunity to praise, applaud and welcome the recon- struction efforts to repair the damage caused by the Nato aggressors and reaffirm Iraq's support for the people of Yugoslavia.' Warming to his theme, he then asks the prime minister whether Milosevic and Saddam are fellow victims of Western tyranny. The prime minister smiles weakly, thanks Mohammed for his comments and brands all sanctions as 'criminal'. He doesn't want to go down the Slobbo and Saddam are brothers' road. Things are bad in Serbia, but they're not that bad.

The truth is the Serbian authorities do not have the faintest idea how to win hearts and minds in the West. There has been no attempt to come to terms with the atrocities committed by Serbian soldiers in Bosnia, Croatia and Kosovo — just vehement denials and accusations of Western imperi- alism and media bias. Theirs is a bludgeon- ing approach to PR, rather like the spinmeisters in Iraq, Syria, Libya and North Korea. Hit the journalists over the head with Serbian propaganda again and again until they believe it (or are too tired to offer any resistance). All very well if you've got lots of Mohammeds in the audience, but if you're trying to get EU and US sanctions lifted, not quite the ticket. It's a great tragedy for the Serbian people, especially because there is a large audience in the West sympathetic to their cause, opposed both to the Nato bombing and the contin- ued use of sanctions.

The problem is, bombs and sanctions suit Milosevic very nicely indeed. Far easi- er, and rather more lucrative, to remain in power, even if your country is a pile of rubble, than to allow anyone else a piece of the action. But a week in the Balkans is not long enough to make much sense of the head-numbing complexities, suspi- cions, hatreds and misrepresentations of Balkan politics. One thought arises from the murk. The Pulitzer Prize for journal- ism ain't going to Baghdad this year.

Justin Marozzi is contributing editor of The Spectator.